Friday, November 30, 2018
Thursday, November 29, 2018
Saturday, November 24, 2018
This is how I'm feeling about our president and our government right about now..haven't been able to get the words to this poem out of my head.....My Spirit Sore from Marching....Edna St. Vincent Millay Poem
My Spirit, sore from marching
toward that receding west
Where Pity shall be governor,
With Wisdom for his guest:
Lie down beside these waters
That bubble from the spring;
Hear in the desert silence
The desert sparrow sing;
Draw from the shapeless moment
Such pattern as you can;
And cleave henceforth to Beauty;
Expect no more from man.
Man, with his ready answer,
His sad and hearty word,
For every cause in limbo,
For every debt deferred,
For every pledge forgotten,
His eloquent and grim
Deep empty gaze upon you,---
Expect no more from him.
From cool and aimless Beauty
Your bread and comfort take,
Beauty, that made no promise,
And has no word to break;
Have eyes for Beauty only,
That has no eyes for you;
Follow her struck pavillion,
Halt with her retinue;
Catch from the board of Beauty
Such careless crumbs as fall.
Here's hope for priest and layman;
Here's heresy for all.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Monday, November 19, 2018
Sunday, November 18, 2018
Friday, November 16, 2018
Thursday, November 15, 2018
Monday, November 12, 2018
Saturday, November 10, 2018
Friday, November 09, 2018
Monday, November 05, 2018
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